Another Dawn (37 page)

      
Except tonight there were no girls dancing on the bar, flashing their colorful petticoats for the audience's entertainment. No, tonight Miss Lottie's had been transformed to host a wedding reception for two of Redemption's most respected citizens.

      
Who'd just been married by a flim-flam-priest.

      
Oh, God.

      
The establishment was on the edge of town, at the farthest end of the road that had led Luke and Sofie to Redemption. Only mountain trails continued beyond the three-story building, where Luke imagined miners came down from their claims for a night of refreshment and entertainment.

      
"Roman, I've never been in a place like...a saloon..."
 
The new and red-faced Mrs. Wilson tugged on her husband's sleeve.
 

      
"Anna, Miss Lottie wants to do something nice for us after the epidemic," Dr. Wilson whispered. "Remember, some of our patients were her, uh, employees."

      
Mrs. Wilson's blush deepened, but she nodded. "Very well," she said. "I suppose it will be all right."

      
"Of course, just ask Father Salazar."

      
Luke looked up at the intricate scrollwork on the banister, hoping he could pretend he hadn't heard the question, but Roman and his bride moved closer. He had no choice but to acknowledge their presence and the question.

      
"Right, Luke?" Roman elbowed him so subtly, no one else could have noticed.

      
"Uh, yeah, right."
 
Luke nodded, trying not to laugh at the irony of this latest fiasco. Anna Wilson was worried about the scandal of venturing into a saloon, unaware she'd just entered into a sham marriage.

      
Not funny, Nolan.

      
Dora Fleming followed her mother through the swinging doors, her eyes wide and her mouth set in a thin line of disapproval. "I can't believe we're doing this," she said quietly, shaking her head. "Of all the places for a wedding reception..."

      
The perfect place for this particular wedding reception.

      
"Remember your manners, Dora," Mrs. Wilson said, drawing a deep breath. "We will be gracious to our...our hostess, and that is that."

      
"I'm proud of you both," Dr. Wilson said, kissing his bride on the cheek. Tinny music filled the room from an old piano, and the doctor smiled at his bride. "I think they're waiting for us to lead the dancing."

      
Luke sighed, reminding himself that he'd done the right thing by performing the marriage ceremony. These two people loved each other and belonged together. Nothing else mattered.

      
As the doctor and his bride began to waltz, other couples joined them. Soon, the tension in the room waned as the crowd seemed to forget where they were and what sort of activity typically commenced on the upper floors.

      
Luke glanced up the stairs again, then tugged at the stiff, white collar at his throat. He hadn't worn it in days, and now he had a rash where it chafed his neck. Hives caused by guilt, no doubt.

      
Forcibly banishing such thoughts, he pulled the collar free and shoved it into his pocket. As he scratched his now-naked throat, he looked around the room. Miss Lottie's girls were easy to spot, though he suspected they'd toned down their usual attire as well as their behavior for tonight.

      
"That was a fine wedding, Father," a woman with a Mae West voice said, jerking his attention from the dancers.

      
Luke met Miss Lottie's gaze and nodded, feeling warmth creep up his neck and into his cheeks. Here he stood talking to a notorious prostitute, blushing like a teenager. Well, sexually speaking, he was a teenager. It had been
that
long since...

      
He swallowed hard.

      
"Thank you," he said, wincing as his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "And thank you for hosting this reception. It was very kind of you."

      
"Pshaw."
 
Miss Lottie gripped his arm and gave it a squeeze. Though she wore a simple blue dress, her breasts spilled from the neckline, leaving only her nipples concealed. Heady perfume wafted up from her deep cleavage.

      
And Luke couldn't stop staring.

      
His throat went dry and, for some inexplicable reason, the sight of Miss Lottie's awe-inspiring anatomy made his thoughts shift to another woman. A much smaller woman, with a tattoo on the side of her breast.

      
Miss Lottie leaned closer. "Well, Father, if I didn't know better," she whispered, "I might think you was peeking at my bosom."

      
Luke peeled his gaze from her soft, powdered, perfumed flesh and looked into her laughing eyes. Her hair was a garish shade of red, her lips painted the color of wine, and a beauty mark had been pasted to her cheek. She was the consummate hooker. The only thing missing was a feather of some sort.

      
Her laughter made his face grow hotter, but rather than concern him, he realized his blush probably enhanced his disguise. To all present, he must have appeared the perfect blushing priest, gawking at women's cleavages and barely able to speak in a coherent sentence.

      
If only they knew the truth.
 

      
Standing in their midst was a horny ex-con whose rampant hormones had long since declared chemical warfare on what remained of his sanity.

      
"Well, help yourself to some punch, Father," Miss Lottie suggested, moving away from him at last.

      
There is a God
.
 

      
The woman made him think of sex in a big way, but not of sex with her, just sex in general. No, that was a lie. Miss Lottie made him think about very specific sex.

      
With Sofie.

      
He loosened another button at the top of his shirt. Of course, everything made him think of sex with Sofie. Absolutely everything. Food, drink, scents, sounds, sleep... Perspiration trickled down the sides of his face, and he headed toward the cider bowl. Soft cider, no doubt. Pity. He could use some of Zeke's corn liquor about now.

      
Luke ladled cider into a dainty cup and lifted it to his lips. Even before he tasted it, a familiar scent alerted him the punch had more
punch
to it than he'd anticipated. After he took a sip and confirmed it had been spiked, he looked behind the bar, where Zeke Judson stood. Grinning.

      
"Evenin',
Padre.
"

      
Luke returned Zeke's grin and drained his cup. After refilling it, he looked at Zeke again and realized who was missing from these festivities besides Sofie and Jenny.

      
Where was Sam Weathers?

      
Worry oozed through him as he searched the crowd. Dancers whirled by, doing some kind of reel, and other merrymakers stood on the perimeter, clapping and smiling. Dora Fleming occupied the far side of the punch bowl, sipping steadily, her eyes overly bright. Ab took her empty cup and offered her a full one.

      
Luke smiled again, despite his concern. Ab and Dora–imagine that. Ab said something and Dora laughed, taking the refilled cup and lifting it to her lips. So the good old boy was trying to get the spinster drunk.
Interesting.

      
However, if Ab managed to seduce the prudish Dora, Luke had no doubt he'd be called upon to perform another wedding ceremony. He had nothing against Dora and Ab hopping in the sack together, but he had no intention of marrying anybody else, anywhere, anytime. No way.

      
He moved closer and tapped Ab on the shoulder. "Marriage first, Ab," he whispered, knowing he actually sounded like a priest. The other man reddened, tugged on his collar, then gave Luke a sheepish grin.

      
Luke figured by the time Ab wooed and courted Dora, he'd be long gone from Redemption. The circuit judge or new pastor could perform the ceremony.

      
As he moved away from a still blushing Ab and slightly tipsy Dora, something silver flashed from Ab's vest, reminding Luke why he'd been so worried a few minutes ago.
Sam
.
 

      
The marshal had followed Frank Latimer from the church over an hour ago and hadn't returned. Where were they?

      
Cold fear shot through Luke. He had to check on Sofie and Jenny. What if Frank–

      
Luke suddenly knew what he should've realized the day he'd witnessed Shane's reaction to his uncle. "Oh, my God."

      
Frank Latimer was the killer, and Sam Weathers had known that immediately. Luke had only known he didn't trust Frank, but he didn't realize exactly why until now.

      
He had to get out of here. Panic thundered through his veins, but he maintained a calm facade as he placed his cup on the bar and nodded to Zeke.
 

      
Though he wanted to tear through the crowd and into the frosty night, Luke maneuvered around the crowded dance floor until he found the bride and groom. After offering his apologies for leaving early, he walked out the door at a casual pace, praying his terror didn't reveal itself on his face or in his demeanor. He didn't want to make a scene and spoil the Wilsons' wedding reception.

      
Once outside, his mask crumbled and Luke raced toward the jail, his heart pumping wildly. The small stone building was empty and dark.
 

      
Where was Marshal Weathers? His breath coming in rapid bursts of white fog, Luke stood in the center of the dark town and looked toward the church.

      
And the parsonage.

      
Only two buildings in the entire town had lights burning.
      
The lights in the parsonage windows were a dead giveaway. Every man, woman and child in town was at the wedding reception.

      
Except for Sofie, Jenny, Sam Weathers...

      
And a man who'd murdered his own brother.

      
Damn
. Why didn't they just post a billboard pointing the killer to his target? Cold penetrated Father Salazar's black robe and Luke's shirt. He shivered as his breathing slowed and he moved across the dark, deserted street. Stealthily, he slipped from building to building and house to house, until he was at the side of the now empty church.
 

      
The killer could be in the parsonage now, with Jenny and Sofie. Luke swallowed hard, resisting the impulse to charge through the front door, though that's precisely what he wanted to do. He had to protect Sofie and Jenny. He
had
to.

      
They should have warned Sofie and Jenny to keep the lights low and the shutters closed. Why hadn't he and Marshal Weathers thought of–

      
No. Of course Luke hadn't considered this, but the marshal must have. The wise and savvy lawman knew exactly what he was doing and had everything under control.
 

      
Yes, Sam had a plan all right, and that obviously included using Sofie and Jenny as bait for a deadly trap.

      
I'll kill him.

      
Luke bolted from the side of the church to the nearest wall of the parsonage. He used both hands to feel his way along the cold stone, toward the back door.

      
Please, don't let me be too late.

      
His pulse pounded, echoing through his head as he strained to hear anything and everything. He paused at the kitchen window nearest the pantry and peered inside. The room was dark, except for a small sliver of light spilling under the closed door from the parlor.

      
Sofie and Jenny were probably in front of the fire, reading a story.
God, please let them be safe.

      
Luke had prayed more since the morning of his failed execution than he had in his entire life. But none of those other prayers had been as important as this one–not even the one begging for his miserable hide in that frigging electric chair.

      
And he knew why, dammit. Because if anything happened to Sofie and Jenny, he wouldn't care if he lived or died. His life would be worthless without Sofie.
 

      
Picked one helluva time to fall in love, Nolan.

      
And only he would fall in love with the only other person in this century who knew who–and what–he really was. But he didn't have time to sort through that now. All that mattered was saving the life of the woman he loved and an innocent child.